Child's Play

by Maureen Carter

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘She’d rather die than see Caitlin harmed.’

  Caroline sniffed. ‘That worked then.’

  ‘See you around.’ Tapping her temple, she gave a half smile.

  ‘Ciao.’ Caroline paused in the doorway. ‘Don’t fancy a drink, do you? Drown your sorrows?’

  ‘Sorrows?’

  ‘The hair. Was there a power cut?’ She winked. ‘Only joshing.’

  The Toy Hearts were in full western swing mode in an upstairs room when Sarah arrived at the pub. She stood with Caroline at the back waiting for a break between numbers. Through the crowd, Sarah spotted Dave who’d bagged one of the few tables going. Judging by the empties he’d been there some time or had a drinking partner. Yup. A beer buddy. She smiled. It had taken a few seconds to recognize Baker. He sure had dressed the part: blue denims, loud checked shirt. Knowing the chief he’d probably brought along his Stetson.

  Pouting, Caroline pointed her glass. ‘Isn’t that your boss?’

  ‘Sure is.’

  She nudged Sarah’s arm. ‘You didn’t tell me it was a foursome.’

  Cue applause, whooping, cheering. ‘That was for the band, Caroline,’ Sarah drawled before weaving a path through the packed house. Tapping the chief’s shoulder she said, ‘Still on the wagon, I see.’

  Baker beamed, raised his pint. ‘Where’ve you been, Quinn? You’re missing a treat. Hello, hello, hello.’ He waggled a lascivious eyebrow. ‘If it isn’t the lovely Lois.’

  ‘Ms Lane to you.’ Caroline pecked him on the cheek. ‘How’s my favourite super … cop?’ She nodded at the stage as she parked her butt. ‘Great band, aren’t they?’

  ‘Cracking.’ Baker was a big fan, seen them loads of times. ‘If you ask me, it’s in the genes.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘Jeans?’ The vocalist and guitarist – lovely young women – wore minuscule dresses and vertiginous heels.

  ‘Keep up, Quinn. They’re sisters.’ He pointed his glass at the guy with a steel guitar. ‘That’s their dad. Can’t you feel the chemistry?’

  ‘Blood thicker than water, eh, Fred?’ Caroline dabbed wine from her lips with a finger.

  Sarah kept schtum, wondered if it went for bad blood too. Ironically, the derelict cinema where Caitlin had been found covered in gore was just up the road. As for family chemistry – it could be a toxic blend.

  She smiled wryly when the blonde singer introduced the next number: ‘Femme Fatale’. Listening to the lyrics, the DI reckoned they held a weird sort of resonance too: the lies fall softly from her lips … I have heard it said the devil is a woman.

  What had King come out with earlier? Ain’t that the truth.

  Sarah told herself to let it go. Glancing round she saw Baker in his element: tapping a cowboy boot, drumming his thigh, singing along – softly thank God. She watched King lean across, whisper something that made him laugh. He reached under the table, pulled out a hat as if he was busking. Aren’t we all? Sarah bit her lip, had to look away. Catching Dave’s gaze on her face she returned his warm smile. He was a lucky boy; she’d decided he could wait to sample her culinary delights. They’d eat out tonight. She might even pick up the bill.